For Eden
by hangman
Summary: Completed, chapter 7-Feeling numb, Legolas finds himself cutting to feel once more. He blindly follows his father to Rivendell in hopes to find a distraction from his obsession and he finds one in the form of a human named Estel. no slash
1. Default Chapter

**Disclaimer**: I don't own though it maybe slightly AU 

**Author's Note**: Just to say from the start this piece will be mainly based on my experiences with things that Legolas will go through.  To anyone else this will just be another Legolas torture story but to me it will help me come to terms with things I have to deal with in my life.  Don't flame for the sake of flaming; if you actually have something to say I will take under consideration but if you flame just because you don't like Legolas angst, then what are you doing here in the first place? 

**~*For Eden*~**

Legolas twisted in his bed, another sleepless night for him.  The moon was a glaring orb in his eyes and he wished to put it out.  He arched his back, gripping his sheets, wishing that the pounding in his temples would go away.  He felt listless and strange; he couldn't feel anything.  His breathing became deep and labored.  It glinted in the moonlight, beckoning for him to come and take its cool hilt in his hot, sweaty palms.  Legolas knew he would regret this the next morning but that wasn't nearly enough to stop him.  

He took up the knife and held it for a minute, savoring the moment.  He was _excited_ as sick as it was.  Legolas chose his spot carefully, a place that would not be seen.  The inside of his arm, near his elbow.  He drew a thin red line that started to well with blood shortly after.  It wasn't enough.  He had to cut again, twice more, across his first line and next to it.  It was angry looking and fierce and Legolas felt strangely proud of it.  He couldn't stop looking at it in the moonlight as he felt the puckered skin with his fingertip.  What was it that was so intoxicating about his own self-destruction that he was so addicted to it? 

Legolas lay back in bed, content only for a little while.  Soon his arm started to ache and sting and the regret started to set in.  Why had he done this?  Why mar his flesh of his own free will?  He will be scarred for the rest of his life.  Legolas felt panicky.  What if someone saw?  What if someone questioned him?  He fell asleep fitfully and worried, holding his arm, turning the sheets crimson red. 

~*~

"Good morning Legolas."  Legolas awoke to the voice of his father and immediately felt fear in his heart.  The bloodied sheets!  He positioned his body so that they were hidden.  

"Good morning, Father," he answered, his voice hollow.  

"Breakfast is waiting, so don't keep us waiting for you."  The minute he left, Legolas felt ashamed.  What reason did he have to feel what he did?  What right did he have to do what he does?  His father was kind, he was a prince, and he had everything while people who had nothing were able to be happy. 

"They are only emotions," Legolas told himself.  "Everything is relative and if your worst moment is someone else's best, then so be it because it will still be your worst moment."  He wished he could believe his words and he repeated them like an anthem as he got dressed.  

He chose carefully, a long sleeved tunic despite the warming weather.  He could stand to be a little warm if it meant his secret would be kept such.  Legolas stole a glance at his cut once more, almost enchanted.  Feeling sick to his stomach and most certainly not in the mood for breakfast, Legolas headed to the dining rooms. 

"Legolas, I was beginning to think you were tied to the bed."  Thranduil beckoned for him to sit in a chair by his.  Legolas' stomach clenched at the sight of the meat and the poached eggs. 

"Meat for breakfast, Father?" 

"Only the very best for my son," he said laughing.  Legolas picked a couple of grapes off of their stems and chewed carefully, his stomach tight.  He was afraid of becoming large like his father.  It disgusted him and scared him.  He would have to learn to live in such an adult world if he became one.  Instead he would be immortal to the fullest; a child forever.  

"Father, my stomach is quite upset," Legolas started hesitantly.  "Would it be okay if I were excused?"  Thranduil frowned uncertainly. 

"If you aren't feeling so well then perhaps I should cancel our trip to Rivendell?"  Legolas felt guilty as he reassured his father.

"Oh no, Father, I know how much you were looking forward to this trip, to seeing Lord Elrond again.  It's just temporary, very temporary.  I'll be feeling fine soon, just right now I'd like to rest a little more."  Legolas felt himself perspiring.  He needed to be alone.  Finally he was excused and Legolas nearly sprinted for his room.  He looked the doors and fell upon the bed.  Though he was awake for only a couple of hours at most, he was exhausted.  

"Too many sleepless nights," Legolas whispered to himself.  He traced his bony ribs with one hand.  "Perhaps Rivendell will distract me.  Please let it distract me." 

~*~

"Who's coming?" Estel asked, trying to keep up with his older brothers.    

"No one," teased Elrohir.  

"Come on," Estel said, knowing fully well he sounded as whiny as a child.  

"Come on," imitated Elladan.  He tousled Estel's head of curly dark hair.  "It's King Thranduil of the woodland realm and his son Legolas."

"Legolas?"  Estel frowned in thought.  

"You've never met him but we have," said Elrohir.  "He's strange.  He's so delicate and pure that it's uncanny.  But I'm sure Father will make sure you keep him occupied."  
  


"Why?"  Estel's voice had quickly gone back to being whiny. 

"Because if you were an elf, little brother, you would be just about the same age." 

"Just my luck," Estel said.  "I'll have to escort around a spoiled elf prince." 

"He's coming tomorrow, little brother, so get ready."  The older elves were off, laughing and joking.  Estel wished he could join them but his father, Lord Elrond, had requested for him to come to his rooms, probably to tell him to escort Legolas around.  Estel frowned at the thought.  

"Sooner he comes the sooner he'll leave," Estel muttered as he headed to Lord Elrond.  

~*~

a/n: more coming later as this is a very late hour and I will be unplugged from the computer if I am caught.  Thanks for reading~*


	2. Chapter Two

**Disclaimer**: I don't own but it may turn out to be slightly AU (I'm not a stickler for the little facts)

**Author's Note**: Thanks to all of you who reviewed who also gave encouraging words and those who found they could relate to this story.  I'm hoping for this to help other people as much as it might help me.  Individual replies are at the bottom of the chapter.

**~*For Eden*~**

**  
~*Chapter Two*~**

The pace set for the journey to Rivendell was brisk but not difficult.  Thranduil, eager to see his old friend once more, kept pushing the pace until they were more than a day ahead of where they should be.  

Legolas usually enjoyed riding but now he worried.  There was too much silence; too much time for him to think about things and what he had done.  He kept fingering his cuts and found it harder and harder each time to look as though he was enjoying himself every time Thranduil turned on his horse to make sure his son was following correctly.  Legolas had to keep up his smooth, content façade or his father would ask what was the matter.  

It was finally night when Thranduil called to halt and got ready for a nights rest underneath the glittering sky.  

"You have not seen much of the open sky, have you, Legolas?" he asked as he laid out blankets.  

"No, I haven't."  Legolas voice sounded wooden and he made an effort to sound happier.  "But they are lovely." 

"They are, aren't they?  They look like little cut diamonds in the folds of silk."  Legolas nodded as though to agree but to him they looked like jagged pieces of broken glass.  He felt as though his throat was full of them.  Thranduil mistook his strange expression for fatigue.

"We should rest, especially you.  You said you weren't feeling well."  Although Legolas could have kept riding longer he agreed and lay down, feigning rest and peace.  Thranduil was soon asleep.  Legolas gripped his arms where his cuts were making them sting.  His breathing quickened as he felt he _needed_ to do it again.  He reached into his belt where his dagger was concealed and brought it out, making sure to be quiet for his father slept much too close for comfort.  Legolas made sure Thranduil was fast asleep before gently tracing the dagger across his right arm.  Sweat formed on his brow as he gritted his teeth against the pain. 

An owl cried into the night and the dark form of his father stirred.  Legolas froze, heart beating so loudly he was sure all of Middle Earth could hear him.  When he was sure that Thranduil had not awoken, Legolas finished what he had started.  He cut the skin until a dark red line formed on his pale skin turned blue in the moonlight.  Legolas made another cut right above it.

"So beautiful," he whispered, tracing the cuts with a careful finger.  He could taste the blood in his mouth.  It tasted like iron.  He took a shuddering breath.  When he lay down and looked up into the stars, he wished he could take everything back, especially when he could hear the gentle breathing of his father.  How he would worry if he found out.  Legolas shook his head; he couldn't tell anyone, he couldn't burden anyone with his problems; they had enough of their own.  This was his problem, his fault.  

"It's another form of self expression," Legolas said to the sky, heart heavy with guilt.  "That's all it is."  He felt himself believing his words.  He lay awake, his eyes feeling glassy and heavy like marbles in his head. 

~*~

Estel fidgeted in his new pale blue and silver tunic.  He had been standing for so long that he wasn't sure his legs were still attached to his body.

"When are they going to be here?" he whispered to Elrohir.  The older elf shrugged. 

"Thranduil is usually very prompt.  Perhaps _Legolas_ is holding him up."  Estel groaned inwardly.  

Estel stood rigidly for what seemed like another three hours next to Elrond and Elrohir and Elladan until finally the sound of hooves on stones sounded.  A large, rum colored horse appeared with Thranduil on its back.  Following behind was a milky white horse with large, pale blue eyes with a startlingly similar looking elf on its back.  Estel figured that must be Legolas.  He silently critiqued the elf.  He was surprisingly thin, even thinner than Estel himself who already had an extremely lean build.  With dark circles around his eyes and long pale hair, Estel thought Legolas looked almost sick. 

Then again, Estel noted the wristbands of an archer hanging out of one of Legolas' bags with respect.  He hoped maybe Legolas could help him with his own archery.  Estel could see what Elrohir meant when he said Legolas was uncanny.  There was something ethereal about the other boy.  Perhaps it was because he was so thin or because of the serene, almost mask like expression, on his face.  Or perhaps it was the yards of pale hair spilling over his back, unlike any others'.  

"Elrond!"  While the older elves reunited, Estel took a deep breath and approached the younger elf. 

"I'm Estel," he said, extending a hand.  If Legolas had heard, he gave no notice.  Estel took back the hand, slightly annoyed.  Then again, what was he going to expect, the other boy to shake it?  

"You're going to in my company during your visit," Estel said.  Legolas dismounted gracefully and reached up to gather the reins of the horse.  When doing so, the billowing sleeves of his shirt slid up, revealing two angry looking cuts. 

"That looks as though it hurt," said Estel sympathetically.  "What happened?"  The words seemed to take a while to reach Legolas.  The distant look in his sad (sad?  Estel was surprised) blue eyes disappeared and Legolas looked straight at Estel for the first time.

"What?"  Estel gestured to Legolas' arm.  He followed his gaze then a slightly startled look crossed his face.  The elf quickly pulled the sleeve back down in its place.

"I ran into a door," he finally said.  "I'm very clumsy."  Estel's eyebrows rose in disbelief but didn't say anything. 

"I'll show you inside," Estel finally said and lead the way, Legolas following with his bags and horse. 

~*~

_Kowarete no Tsubasa_- I was expecting people to relate to this because I wrote directly from what had happened to me and tried to record my emotions exactly as I had felt them.  Estel is in for a pleasant surprise?  Perhaps, he will be surprised, that's for sure.  Oh, and you're my first reviewer, that's always special  

_Eternal_- for me, updating a week is pretty good hah…I'm notorious for not updating but this story is kind of crucial to me right now and I need to write it before something happens that I would regret.  So I'm glad you're enjoying this story, I'm sure it'll be updated pretty quickly.

_Jenifer_- The fact that you told me that Legolas' feelings are so accurate made me know that I did a good job of putting emotions into words.  Sometimes it's harder than it seems and I don't end up doing such a good job.  Hang in there; I'm sure you can stop if you want to so good luck with that. 

_Psychotic S_- I'm glad you can relate to this story.  I hope you stop harming yourself because you don't deserve to be harmed by anyone, even you.  The longer you keep cutting yourself, the harder it is to stop so no matter how hard it is, you should try and stop now.  And I did choose Legolas to be the central character precisely for the reasons you said.  I wanted to show that you're not alone when you're feeling like crap and everyone can feel depressed _and_ everyone can get better from it.

_Catmint_- thanks for the compliments.  I've never read Aragorn angst, just never ventured into it I guess, but maybe I will now, it seems interesting.  I'm glad you like my story

_Angel With No Wings_- thank you so much for all your compliments, it makes me feel like such a good writer haha.  As for my other story (Of Kings and Pawns right?) I really do want to continue it but I think I might after this story gets under way.  

_Dead teenaged poet_- I know what you're talking about, sometimes writing about it or trying to let out my anger or numbness in another way by drawing or punching a pillow just builds the emotion up even more until I have to do it.  But I'm hoping that writing this story will be different and so far it seems to be doing the trick.  I personally didn't mind Thranduil abusing Legolas stories but now everywhere you turn there's Thranduil beating Legolas.  I wanted to show that you can feel low even when your parent isn't abusing you. 

_Elfmage_- all I have to say is that if flamers flame, they're in for a treat.  Another thing about flamers that get me all riled up is that they don't seem to express their emotions in any civil way, they always lace it with the most colorful swear words which is the most stupid thing they can do.  It's like saying, "Look I'm an idiot but now I'm going to prove to you that I'm also a moron by showing that I can't express myself without swearing!" *sigh* flamers…when will they ever learn?

_Leggylover_- there is something addictive about torturing Legolas, isn't there?  Well, I'm glad you're enjoying this.  Oh, and I didn't mean that Thranduil is fat.  Legolas (well, the author) has a slight body issue and he is afraid of becoming, in his opinion, "large" which is just a regular adult.  He feels that would bind him into things that he doesn't want to do, responsibilities, and disease.

Also, thanks to: Fire Eagle, lulu bell, Twisted-Blue-Ribbon, blue jeans baby, Coolio02, Bill the Pony2, wadeva, Emerald Phoenix2, Asuka-chan2 


	3. Chapter Three

**Disclaimer: **I don't own although it may be slightly AU.

**Author's Notes**: I'm overwhelmed by all the encouraging words that you all have given me.  A quick note, if I didn't thank you at the bottom of chapter two, that is because fanfiction can be slow and I didn't receive your review soon enough, but thanks to all of you who reviewed (individual notes, like before, will be at the bottom of the chapter).

Another bit of information about reasons of why I made the story the way it was (feel free to skip these if you want): There isn't going to be anything really glaringly bad about Legolas' life mainly because I used to read Legolas angst, hoping to find something to relate to and all the stories were about Legolas captured, Legolas abused, Legolas tortured, etc. which made me ashamed to feel like crap when I had never been abused by someone else or lived through a tragedy, etc.  So, in short, reading Legolas angst made me feel worse than I already had before so I'm writing this to show that emotions are what they are and everyone can feel like crap and you shouldn't feel as though you're not allowed to feel low.  The only thing I have a qualm about is if you stay feeling low and try not to pull yourself back up.  Anyway, here's the story~

**~*For Eden*~**

**~*Chapter Three*~**

Legolas stroked his horse, running his fingers through its flaxen mane.  Estel waited patiently as Legolas took his time getting all of his bags down from the saddle.  The horse watched Legolas with one pale blue eye as Legolas carefully gathered his bags.  When Estel reached for the horse, it snorted in his face and backed away nervously.  Though Legolas had acted more or less in the same manner regarding Estel, the elf seemed amused at the horse's actions and Estel was sure that there was a hint of a smile on his lips.   

"Can I help you carry anything?" asked Estel.  It was a mere gesture of hospitality that Elrond had insisted on him doing.  Legolas was quiet for a while, wondering if he should take up Estel in that offer.  He had a lot of bags but he didn't want Estel to think that he couldn't handle himself.  Finally, Legolas handed him a bag that was fairly large but filled with naught but clothes making it light.  He kept his bag of personal items containing bandages and a journal for himself and hoisted another heavy bag over his shoulder. 

Estel watched, amused.  Obviously Legolas could handle himself and the only reason he had given him a large looking bag was so that he himself wouldn't feel offended about not being able to handle carrying heavy things.  Estel watched Legolas' slender arm strain as he pulled a bag over his shoulder to carry.  He led Legolas through carpeted stone hallways and leaf-strewn courtyard cobblestones.  Estel caught Legolas' calm, peaceful expression as they passed the changing colors of the trees. 

Once Legolas saw Estel watching him, making the elf stiffen like a board.  _He's on guard_, Estel realized with a small shock.  _He doesn't trust me._  Leading Legolas through an arched doorway, he gestured to show Legolas that this would be his room. 

Estel watched as Legolas walked quietly over to the bed and sat down, smoothing the velvet and silk covers with a pale hand. 

"Thank you," he said softly.  His voice was so quiet that Estel had to strain to hear it.  Legolas carefully laid his head down on the silken, blood red pillow.  

"Are you tired?  I suppose you can rest for awhile before Ada, I mean, Elrond, calls us for dinner."  With an almost defiant look in his eyes, Legolas stood up.

"No, I'm fine."  His hand subconsciously drifted to where his most recent cuts were.  He scratched over them.  The pain made him more awake.  He was tired, so tired, but he didn't want to seem delicate.  Legolas swayed on his feet as he stood, and he pressed his fingers to his head.  His temples had begun to throb.

"Are you sure?"  The human's voice was laced with disbelief.  Legolas frowned, already annoyed.  

"Of course I'm sure," he snapped.  Right after, he regretted doing so.  As much as Legolas wanted to prove that he could control his own life, he wanted nothing more than someone that was willing to listen and help him.  He immediately pushed that back into his mind.  

"It's my life, I can't burden others.  They would only be annoyed at my constant complaints…complaints over nothing," Legolas whispered.  Estel had already been halfway out the door, pushing aside the filmy, gossamer embroidered curtains that served as a door.  Legolas wished it would be replaced with a heavy wooden door. 

"Did you say something?"  Legolas bit his lip to see the annoyance on Estel's face.  To his credit, he was very polite and kind so far and it was Legolas' fault that that expression was on his face. 

"No, I must have been thinking out loud."  Legolas wished he could say something to make Estel less irritated.  He was always pulling other's down.

"Sorry," he said even more quietly.  

Estel stood at the doorway for a moment; he and Legolas were completely still and silent for what seemed like a short eternity.  As spoiled and prickly as this elven prince was, there was still something about him that couldn't quite bring Estel to hate him, or even be truly annoyed with him.  There was something about the fragile elf that made him want feed him until he looked healthy and wash those shadows away from his face. 

It was that inexpressible sadness in Legolas' face, Estel had decided.  Underneath his expression of arrogance was something else.  Just as Estel was about to say something, to maybe reassure Legolas that he wasn't truly mad, Elrohir's head appeared in the doorway.   

"Father has prepared an early dinner, while the sun is still in the sky," said Elrohir, giving Legolas a polite incline of the head to recognize the younger elf's position.  He left in a hurry, leaving Estel and Legolas alone again.  The setting sun's last rays spilled into the room, setting the red roses in the room afire and washing the ground in gold.  Legolas hair turned a deep gold and looked like liquid, trickling down his back.  His normally pallid face flushed with color.  Estel cocked his head, surveying the prince.

"You really are uncanny," he finally said.  

"What?" Legolas looked amused.  Was that a slight smile?  So he wasn't angry?  Legolas felt relieved. 

"Nothing.  You should change into more comfortable clothes."  Legolas looked at his wrinkled, riding clothes.

"I must smell like horse too," he said, with a slight grin.  "You go ahead first, I can catch up."

"You don't know where we're dining," Estel pointed out pragmatically.  Legolas cringed inwardly.  His light mood from just moments before slipped away, leaving him cold and panicked.  His mind twisted with possibilities of how to get the human out of the room.   

"Enjoy the sunset outside, I'll be out in a minute," Legolas said, nearly pushing Estel out the door.  Legolas sighed audibly with relief and pulled out new clothes to quickly change into.  His gaze snagged upon his milky, smooth arms.  He admired them for a minute before he saw the cuts again, so ugly.  But they were so beautiful too.  Only he could see their beauty, shining steadily from underneath what everyone else saw.  But it was wrong also. 

Feeling torn, Legolas ran his fingernails across the cuts in anger.  They opened and blood started to well and slowly make its way down his arm.  The blood trickled down his arm like a spider.  Legolas marveled at the dark red against the white.  It looked like a rose; he was mesmerized. 

A snap of a twig outside brought Legolas out of his reverie. 

"I must be psycho," he whispered.  He cleaned up the blood carefully and bandaged them up carefully and slipped into the clean, crisp clothes.  The shift smelled like sun-dried cotton.  Pulling on his sleeves, the blood smeared, making red streaks on the cream colored fabric.  His heart quickened with an unknown emotion.    

"This was supposed to be a distraction," he said.  Sighing, he walked through the curtains to meet Estel. 

~*~  
  


Estel watched with interest as Legolas, seated across from him, pulled apart his food and moved it around on his plate.  To anyone less keen, Legolas looked as though he had been eating quietly the whole time but Estel knew that the amount of food on Legolas' plate had not changed.  

Elrond had picked a large courtyard to host the meal.  Candles were lit after the heavy, pulsing sun had dipped below the horizon.  A gentle breeze carried the sweet scents of harvest and the food was plentiful.

"How do you like Rivendell, Legolas?" asked Elrond.  It seemed to take a minute for Legolas to register the fact that the question was aimed at him.

"It's very beautiful here," he said politely with a smile.  Estel frowned slightly.  Was he acting?  Estel couldn't tell; if the elf was, he was very good.  Estel watched as Legolas made polite conversation with Elrohir and Elladan.  

Underneath his flawless act, Legolas felt as though he was suffocating.  He shifted, uncomfortable with public situations.  He discreetly felt his stomach through the silver tunic.  He felt so grossly large and greasy, like the oil that was shining brightly on the chicken on his plate.  Legolas couldn't bring himself to eat meat although his father hunted for the best of them.  He could imagine large people with hemorrhaging fat, limp bones buried under layers of lumpy fat.  Legolas felt as though he was going to be sick.

"Please, may I be excused?"  Legolas could barely keep the serene expression on his face as he tried to conceal his shaking hands.  He needed to be put under control.  He needed to feel the hilt of his dagger in his hands.  Legolas pushed his chair back into the table so roughly that it shook his plate.  

"I'm so sorry," he said, as he tried to steady the plate.  Legolas' breath caught in short gasps of air.  Dodging confused glances, Legolas just ran for his room.  Estel caught his father's eye and Elrond nodded.  Estel rose and ran after Legolas.  He saw that Legolas could run quickly.  He caught up with the elf underneath a large tree whose leaves looked black in the night.  The lamplights around the courtyard cast long shadows on the stone floor.  They were confusing.  Estel couldn't decide whether they were imprints of angels on the ground or nightmare demons waiting until nightfall to crawl into unsuspecting victim's bedrooms and slit their throats.   

Estel looked at the elf in suspicion.  What kind of effect was Legolas having on him?  Thoughts now randomly popped into his mind without his control, as though a constant barrage of images and emotions were rampaging through his body like a stampede of animals.  It was a breathtaking ride and Estel wasn't quite sure whether it was in a good or bad way.  The wariness melted from Estel's face when he saw Legolas.  His thin shoulders were hunched over and he had his lips pressed tightly together as though that would prevent the tears that were shining in his eyes from spilling over.  Estel could sense that Legolas was on the verge of running again. 

"Wait, Legolas," Estel said, gripping Legolas around the arm where the cuts were.  Legolas bit his lip to not cry out in pain.  He could felt he blood thick in his throat.  Glass was lodged in his eyes and mouth, cutting him.  He couldn't talk.  He was blinded.  They stung and bit into him.  Then there it was, that voice.  It floated out to him, taking precious seconds to reach his ears.  Each time it eluded him until finally Legolas caught the words.  

  
"Let's just talk," Estel said, trying to reason with Legolas' panicked face.  "Please.  Just tell me."  Legolas held onto that rope, the sound of Estel's voice, and let it pull him back out of his dark hole and closer to the light at the end.   

~*~

a/n: I'm really sorry if it seems like author's notes seem to be taking over the story, I just had to get that above message out of my system and author's notes will become shorter and the story will become longer~

_darkmoon-on-dragonwings_- hey…I'm just depending on you to not to care if I don't update for awhile because I know your computer is always freaking out and half the year you can't get online…the world needs more low maintenance readers like you! (Not that all those requests to update sooner doesn't kill my laziness and actually gets a chapter up…)

_Ainu Laire _and _Hallagurthiel_- I haven't thought of exact ages for both Legolas and Estel but Estel would be around late teens, such as around 16-18.  I want them to be young enough to be vulnerable yet old enough so that they have more freedom.  

_Kowarete no Tsubasa_ and _wadeva_ (about the door comment)- I thought I had stopped but then this has been a very shitty new years eve and you know how one thing leads to another…I seem to be enamored with the number two because that's always how many cuts I make so five does seem extreme and scary.  The only reason why Legolas said that he ran into the door was because I used that same excuse…and everyone believed me (weird huh) anyway, thanks for reading~

_Elfmage_- The road for Legolas and Aragorn/Estel's friendship will be difficult, mainly because it took me the longest time to trust the person that Estel's character is based on.  Just bear with me…oh and btw, the Microsoft's word spell checker is a wonderful friend…haha

_Lulu bell_- that sucks that you have to go to such a sexist school!  I hope you give them a good hard kick in the balls sometime.  I'm not saying that it's always okay to do so…. just that they usually deserve it haha…thanks so much for all the compliments, you seem like the kind of person who has their head screwed on right.  The world needs more people like you so cheers~

_ZeldaDragon_- Estel is going to have some troubles with Legolas I predict (hah and also I control the story…I feel powerful…) He keeps wanting to help Legolas even though Legolas refuses.  Estel is very observant and notices the smallest things that other people would gloss over as just teenage drama things that aren't taken seriously.  Maybe because Estel is the same age as Legolas therefore does not look down upon him…I wish I were as cheerful as you, I hate dragging other people down when I'm feeling low…I'll work on it though, and you're right, too much laughter will always be better than too little laughter.

_Catmint _and_ leggylover_ and _Jenifer_- glad you guys are still with me for the ride.  This may be a bit of a long story (or maybe not…) but it's always nice to see familiar reviewers.  Thanks guys

_Taraisilwen_- (I hope I got your name right) of course Legolas and Estel will be friends…I was lucky enough to have an Estel in my life and I'm not about to deprive Legolas of one too…I'm glad you like how even the "perfect character" has problems.  I know some people who may be annoyed at this and say that Legolas has no right to feel the way he does.  Well my author's note stands.  Everyone has a right to feel however he or she want and so on and so forth. 

_Zuma_- I'm always sorry to hear when another reviewer has had to feel the same pain that Legolas is going through (it's always weird how one thinks they can feel low while no one else should deserve to feel so…I fall into that category also) Don't think of it as failing; the only failure is the one who refuses to acknowledge the fact that they can succeed if they try and/or just ask for the help they deserve.  Funny what people come up with when trying to justify their actions…it's hard to just admit that you've done something wrong…well anyway, thank you so much for the kind words and compliments~

_Whitewater-spirit_ and _arimel_- at first I was worried that telling people right off the bat that this was semi-autobiographical would make them look at the story with a more pity sort of eye but the reviewers so far have been very genuine, even going so far to share with me their experiences which was more than I could ever have imagined.  I just wanted to thank you guys for just naming elements in the story that are good, like minus the emotions.  You guys just tell me that I am a good writer and I love to hear that, thanks~

_Sindarin Lady_- what to do with parents…you know they usually have the best of intentions but sometimes I wish they'd just leave me alone…maybe that's just me…yeah, sometimes I need someone just to talk to, to distract me or whatever or sort through situations…it helps to know that you're willing to talk to me and you're there, thanks a lot~

_Angel with No Wings_- maybe Legolas subconsciously says such terrible excuses as a cry for help…I don't know, I spend a lot of time contemplating the reasons for my actions…hopefully another chapter of the other fic will come soon…please be patient with me!

_The-Serious-Padfoot_- haha, I always use words that are too large and I'm not quite sure of the meaning of…and it's all good…I'm glad you're enjoying psychoanalyzing Legolas, I look forward to your insights!

_Chels_- thanks; I'm updating this quickly (I hope) 

Once again, I'll promise more stories, less author's notes! (I mean the author's note in the beginning; I always like to respond individually, if there is something to say, to reviewers.  Something about the interaction makes it more fulfilling to me or something…thank for reading to all of you out there~


	4. Chapter Four

**Disclaimer: **I don't own although it maybe slightly AU.

**Author's Note: **a couple of comments that I have already made that I think I'll have to make again is that Estel would be around his late teens, about sixteen years old to eighteen.  I wanted both Legolas and Estel to be young enough to still be vulnerable but old enough to have more freedom from their elders.  Also, there won't be any major disaster that Legolas had lived through for him to start to cut himself and whatnot…I explained that in the last author's note about how everyone has a right to feel the way they do regardless of their situation. 

**~*For Eden*~**

**~*Chapter Four*~**

They stood there like that, staring at each other in the flickering light for what seemed an eternity.  Legolas was torn.  Here was someone who was offering to listen to him, to whatever he had to say.  What did he have to say?  He was so tempted to turn Estel down, to walk away and pretend like none of this ever happened and to keep going the way he was.  But could Estel possibly help him?  Legolas felt hope, a fool's hope, but hope nonetheless.  

Estel wanted to do something other than just standing there.  He wanted to go inside Legolas' mind and find out what had been haunting him for so long.  He wanted to find that demon and chase it out of Legolas' mind and sweep away all those dark curtains that had been shading the elf's blue eyes.  They were heavy, damp curtains of the dead; they were musty and poisonous. 

Legolas tried to say something but his tongue felt severed.  Never had controlling his mouth seemed to hard.  All he wanted to do was to fall into a pool of water.  His flesh felt as though it was wasting away to reveal the smooth, white bones underneath.  He would fall into the water, arms spread like a rock star, and he would melt into the caressing waves.  How sweet and pure he would be.  He could almost taste the coolness on his lips as though the night had beaded into water.    

He needed to escape the confines of his life; they were as rigid and wiry as baskets.  The strings of his life pulled at him like a marionette; there were expectations that he couldn't, didn't want to reach and too many days of feeling nothing.  He felt as hollow and wooden as a puppet. 

"I just…can we talk?"  It was painful even to say those words, like nails that snagged on the delicate surface of his mouth.  

"Sure, of course we can."  Estel was speaking more softly than normal, as though speaking too loudly would scare Legolas away.  As much as Legolas felt like unloading his thoughts onto the other boy, he couldn't help feeling wary.  

"What has been weighing so heavily on your mind that you won't eat?" asked Estel.  Legolas winced though the expression was lost into the darkness.  Lies almost fell out of Legolas' mouth but something stopped him. 

"I don't know, that's the problem," he finally said.  Estel could feel the vagueness in his voice and felt instinctively not to press.  To him, Legolas was like a cat.  He would tell what he needed to when he wanted to; he will come to Estel for help whenever he was ready and not a second sooner. 

"We don't have to talk about you if you want," said Estel, carefully.  He led Legolas over to a circle of light.  They sat down on the stone floor, still warm from the afternoon's sun.  Estel stretched out lazily on his back, hands resting behind his head.    

"I hope you're enjoying the trip so far." 

"It doesn't have much but it is beautiful," Legolas finally said.  It was a beautiful place full of mystery.  

"You must learn to look beneath the surface of things," said Estel. 

"And see what you can find for even the plainest things can shine with their own beauty," finished Legolas.  He instinctively clutched a hand to his cuts.  

"Everything can be beautiful when seen in the right light."

"Everything?  Even disease?  Sickness, war, poverty?" challenged Legolas.

"Perhaps not the thing itself," Estel admitted.  "But sometimes the worst of times bring out the best in people." 

"And that is pathetic," said Legolas.  "That you must be wrecked and ravaged in order to see the beauty that lies plainly before you." 

"Not all of us are as blessed as you in our sight."  They listened as the lonely evening bird sang its song.  

"I am not blessed in any way," Legolas finally said.  Estel rolled onto his stomach and looked at Legolas in the faint light. 

"Everyone is blessed if they have breath in their lungs," he said.  "Is there nothing that makes you feel as though you are blessed?  You are very contradictory.  First you say that one should see the beauty that lies plainly before them and yet you do not see that you are blessed." 

"Then sun on my face, the water, the wind on my back, these things are blessed.  But that does not make myself blessed." 

"But you are," Estel insisted.  "You are blessed to have these things." 

"How are you so passionate about life and living," said Legolas, staring up into the velvet sky.  He longed nothing more than to be stolen away into its soft folds, far away from pain that lingered on this earth. 

"When you are human and your family is immortal, you learn to appreciate life," said Estel gravely.  "Life is too short to spend complaining and dwelling on bad things." 

"You say that I am contradictory.  I have another contradiction for you then.  I told you that people should acknowledge the beauty before them without living through tragedy.  Yet when you say one shouldn't complain or dwell on bad things, I think you are wrong.  To know light you must know darkness as well as every circle of hell.  You must know both to appreciate one.  If you are forever glossing over the bad things in life it will kill you someday."  Estel frowned in thought.

"You twist my mind, elf."  Legolas felt his own mind twist as well.  He felt as though his mind had no control over his mouth, as he kept talking, unable to stop himself.  Legolas felt fearful that he might reveal more than he intended to.

"But is that necessarily a bad thing."  Estel smiled.

"I suppose not."  Legolas settled down more comfortably next to Estel. 

"What's it like?  Being human and knowing that you will someday die?"  

"For someone who is immortal you are obsessed with death.  Why is that?" 

"It means end, end of things.  Just because I am immortal does not mean I cannot die.  I dream about-" Legolas traced the ground with a fingertip.  "I dream about dying."  _Suicide_, his mind added. 

"Dreams are just dreams you know Legolas," said Estel.  "That's all."  

"They are a manifestation of my fear and the inevitable."  

"You won't die Legolas," said Estel impatiently.  "You're an elf, your kind lives forever." 

"But you won't and doesn't that worry you?"  Estel peered at Legolas' face and saw true terror there. 

"Yes but worrying about it won't prevent it now, will it?" he said soothingly.  "You just have to live your life, Legolas, you can't let something you can't change affect you so much."  

They lapsed into silence.  Legolas was so tired; he was always tired.  The weight of the world seemed to drag at his very bones, chalky and crumbling.  His skin felt bruised and sensitive to the touch.  Legolas felt warmth on one side and realized it was Estel.  The human was too close.  Legolas moved away from him and let the coolness envelop him, shivering.  He knew too much.  Scared, Legolas stood up.  His head felt messy, black lines etched across his mind as things crashed and shattered.  He couldn't handle all of this, any of this.  He needed to get away from Estel fast.  It was as though a net had been pulled over him and the strings burned his skin. 

"It's late, I must sleep," said Legolas.  When Estel reached for his arm, Legolas flinched.  

Estel rose with a groan as his stiff body accustomed once more to moving.  Legolas jumped up more fluidly, eager to return to his room.  

Once in the safe haven of his room, Legolas crawled into the bed and reached for the familiar handle of his dagger.  It seemed to slither into his hand like a poisonous snake; they knew each other too well.  Legolas stared at it for a moment.  Was it really worth it?  Why did he have to do this?  He would regret it doubtless.  

The fear of Estel came crashing down once more.  How he would scoff at him if he knew the whole truth!  He would think Legolas a weakling.  He had no right to feel the way he was feeling; there was no tragedy in his life.  

When Legolas started for his arm, he saw the red lines lacing up them.  It was too noticeable.  This would not do.  Sooner or later someone would see.  Without thinking, Legolas reached down and cut a smooth line on his leg.  It hurt less than when he did it on his arm; in fact it didn't hurt at all.  Legolas felt delirious.

"This is my poetry," he whispered.  "My destruction."  He liked the sound of it.  As clichéd as it was, he was in love with the knowledge that he was in control.  He would not succumb to disease or death taken by some phantom nor would he live forever, growing older and wearier every year by the redundancy of life.  He would choose carefully when he would die and he would execute it by his own hand.  It would be his ultimate escape and he will escape.  

Legolas fell back onto the velvet and silk sheets of his bed and lay there, breathing deeply.  The sweat soaked nightshirt grew chilly and Legolas finally succumbed to sleep.  

~*~

He dreamt of demons with forked tongues and little beards that danced around him, chanting and singing in an unknown language.  Legolas saw himself falling from a height and landing on the ground.  People he knew laughed as though his own death was a spectacle.  Then they grew agitated.

"Prince Legolas had nothing to die for," one spectator said.

"He had everything, he was just too enamored at the idea of living a drama," said another.  Legolas tried to tell them that they were wrong and he did it to escape, to escape _them_.  Before they caught Legolas' protests, he felt the ground shift beneath his feet and the scenery changed.  

He was surrounded by decaying people with gaping mouths and searching eyes.  They grabbed at Legolas' sleeves and hems, begging.  Then he was surrounded by fairies, their ribcages underneath their gossamer gowns like wires.  Their long hair floated around them, more substantial than the limbs that poked at Legolas, laughing at him. 

Legolas awoke, sitting straight up in bed, hair pressed around his face, damp.  He ran to the chamber pot and heaved though nothing came out.  His sides hurt from the effort.  He was disgusted at himself and clawed at his stomach.  Legolas ran from the room.

He heard running water and followed that sound until he came across a clear stream.  He started to splash his face then changed his mind and jumped in.  The water was cold and bit at his skin but after submerging himself several times, the temperature seemed to warm.  Legolas floated on his back letting his arms and legs move as they would, his hair floating around his face like a halo.  The moonlight held him in its loving light that night.  It was no longer a searchlight, holding him guilty at his crimes, but it was a maternal glow to protect him.  This was what he had dreamed about.  

The night seemed to have turned into liquid and surrounded Legolas.  He drank the moonlight.  His arms and legs seemed impossibly white underneath the water.  They looked clean, untouched, unsullied, and pure.  He was pure.  He was like smooth, clear glass that would ring with the sweetest tones.  His hands traveled over his hips, feeling the bone that jutted out.  It felt alien.  He was untouchable.  Legolas slept as the water guided him to the bank.  He grasped the soft grass with his fingers and the water lapped at his feet.

From a distance, on the bride over the stream, Estel watched.  He was so different.  The elf looked so small out there in the water by himself and though he wanted to drag him out, Estel could see that Legolas was enjoying himself for what seemed like the first time.  He sighed.  He wished Legolas would trust him enough to tell him what was truly bothering him but it looked as though he would have to wait. 

~*~

Legolas awoke with the sun in his eyes and grass in his hair.  He licked his lips and carefully made his way back to his room and slipped into bed.  He felt so trapped.  He wanted nothing more than to break away and be free.  But free from what?  From life, he decided.  He was a prisoner to the redundancy of life.  

"Sleep well I hope?" asked Estel, poking his head in.  If he was surprised that Legolas was already awake, staring blankly at the ceiling, he didn't let it on. 

"Your baths are prepared," Estel added.  "Ada apologizes that it couldn't be prepared sooner.  He says he should have anticipated travel-weary guests but it must have slipped his mind."  Legolas waved away the apology with a gaunt hand. 

"I would like to bathe," he admitted.  Despite his night swim, he felt sticky and unclean now back in reality.  Estel led him to a bathing pool with a stream of water that fell from the marble ceiling.  

"Take your time, Ada likes to take his time in the morning, he prefers later breakfasts."  After the human had left, Legolas shed his clothes and found the water pleasantly warm.  The water that fell from the ceiling, however, was extremely hot.  Legolas found an assortment of soaps.  They stung his arms and legs.  Biting his lips, Legolas forced himself to stay underneath the waterfall of hot water as it burned him and rinsed the last of the soap out of his cuts. 

He found a rough cloth and rubbed his skin until it shone red.  Legolas still felt filthy and he washed himself more thoroughly.  His cuts opened up and bled, turning the water around him a light pink.  Finally satisfied that he was clean, Legolas climbed out of the pool and back into fresh clothes. 

Legolas waited outside patiently in a courtyard, watching the sky grow brighter, the same shade of pink as the water had been.  Legolas hastily looked down at the ground in guilt.  He felt as though this was consuming him, whatever _this_ was.  How did it all start? 

_He remembered the very first time.  The world seemed to be pressing down on him, pushing at his body, stretching him beyond what he could handle.  His mind seemed as though it was collapsing in on itself; he couldn't stand living anymore.  The knife that had been hastily left behind seemed to call to him.  No one else seemed to be minding Legolas, it was as though he was the only one left on the world.  He walked as though an invisible string was pulling him and before he knew it, thick, dark red blood had fell to the ground.  He didn't quite remember doing the deed; Legolas just remembered the pounding of his heart, excited at what would happen in the near future and terrified that someone might walk in.  Watching the blood fall, he felt as though he had accomplished something.  He was too afraid to have done nothing but scratch himself before and here he was now, able to cut himself._

_Feeling sick, Legolas had hid the knife and scrubbed the blood from the floor.  But the whole time he couldn't help stealing glances at his own doing.  It was proof.  Legolas felt as though now if anyone should find out they couldn't dismiss his feelings.  He felt as though he had more substance, that he was justified.  Why else would he do this?  He was in charge, in control.  He could do whatever he pleased. _

"Legolas!"  Legolas' head snapped up and out of his memories.  Estel was walking towards him and his long lanky legs took him to Legolas' side faster than the elf expected.

"Breakfast is prepared.  I couldn't help but notice that you had wrist guards.  Maybe you'd like to shoot some arrows with me after breakfast?" Estel suggested.  Legolas felt his face break into a real smile.

"That would be nice."  He stood up and left, leaving his memories behind and ignoring his demons that tugged at his mind. 

~*~

Thanks to: Tweeked-Out-Girl, leggy-lover, Coolio02, FrodoBaggins87, Taraisilwen, Elessar*Lover, LazarusZ, Sue Falkenkralle, Catmint, Theodred Prince, kaya, Riva van Dyk, Snikkers, Isdule07, Saxaphonebaby, ZiZi the Zephyr, Chels, Niki, siricerasi, Drowned with my Enemy, and Vegeta's Girl     

_Lulu bell_- I don't mind your rantings and ravings, haha…they're very entertaining…I don't quite understand that "tee" expression either…thanks again for the nice words

_Sunni_- emotions and such are more or less autobiographical…this whole story is except I'm not an elf hah…

_Starkitty Angel_- I'm not a big fan of Arwen either…

_ZeldaDragon_- thank you for all the sweet words and I'm so happy for you that you're happy now…people like you inspire me

_Kowarete no Tsubasa_- wow, I hope I didn't make anyone anorexic with the food descriptions…I hope I didn't get too gross…I'm a bit of a slave to that trance myself…it's just weird, like I'm not thinking anymore…anyway, I'm glad you're enjoying my story!

_Arimel_- I'm just mainly taking everything based off of personal experience.  Sometimes I shift food around and no one seems to think of it…it's a lot easier to do in a large group of people which was my situation at the time…but I'm positive that you're right and that it would never happen in an intimate family dinner…

_Rainbow Stevie_- again (I feel like I'm repeating myself) I'm writing this based off of personal experience so Legolas has been cutting himself where I have.  But yes, like you had wished, I had been planning for Legolas to cut elsewhere, as he did in this chapter, because (like I said) that is what happened to me.  I'm enjoying your constructive criticism and I'm looking forward to more of your suggestions and comments. 

_Elfmage_- yeah, I end up feeling selfish that I have so much, functioning family, friends, etc. yet I still feel low.  But don't feel bad about feeling the way you do!  (Like I've said so many times before…I really am repeating myself aren't I…) 

_Psychotic S_- I was rather surprised at how many reviews this story has been getting…but more than the number I'm enjoying reading everyone's input and having them share a bit of themselves with me (honestly, I hope I'm not sounding too cheesy…) It's always helpful to hear about someone who has overcome their own demons, let's all keep our fingers crossed that Legolas will

_Sindarin Lady_- that is a very good point, that you are only hurting yourself, because I had used that as justification many times before…I'm glad you seem to love your parents…it's always sad when kids seem to hate their parents when they only want the best for their kids…

_Angel With No Wings_- I'm hoping that by reading this and living through Legolas' pain, people will be more understanding and not just put off teens' depression as just a "phase."  I wish people were more talkative about such things instead of having it be like a poser fad almost to cut yourself.  It's dangerous and it should be discussed.  Anyway, thanks for all your comments, they were very interesting to read. 

_Darkmoon-on-Dragonwings_- I'll never tell ^^ 


	5. Chapter Five

**Disclaimer:** I don't own although it may be slightly AU with the little facts

**Author's Notes**: Sorry this chapter came late; school has started with a vengeance…once again, thanks to all of you for the nice words in your reviews.  Oh, and, I've only done archery once and I'm not much of a guru at all so I'm just making up the terms and such as I go along.  And once again, even if it seems like it may turn out that way in this chapter, there is no slash in this story.  None.  I'm not against slash and sorry for all disappointed but my life isn't quite as romantic as the imaginations of some in fandom.  

**~*For Eden*~**

**~*Chapter Five*~**

Legolas aimed carefully and shot.  The arrow flew cleanly and embedded itself in the center of the target.  It was a hard shot but Legolas nailed it, naturally.  His father was an archer and it was in his blood.  Estel let out a sad sigh.

"I've been trying, really," he insisted.  "But Ada is always too busy to help, same with my brothers."  Legolas enjoyed the look of frustration on Estel's face.  It made him look more like a human child rather than the older, wiser boy he seemed the night before.  It also didn't hurt the fact that he finally felt superior in one way while Estel seemed to be calm and collected in all other parts of his life. 

"You're holding the bow too low, you're keeping the arrow pointed to the ground.  You must measure the distance from yourself to the target with your eyes and point the arrow accordingly." 

"And how do you "measure?"" Estel demanded.  "It's one thing to say it and one thing to do it." 

"Patience," Legolas said with a shrug.  "I've had more than a hundred years to perfect my aim, you haven't."  

"I'm surprised I forget you're an elf sometimes," Estel said off-handedly.  

"I'm surprised you remember at all."  Legolas shot another arrow that flew to join the one in the middle he had shot before. 

"It's hard to forget, you've got that elven aura and the appearance," Estel said wryly, with a grin. 

"Nay," said Legolas.  "I am sorry but I assure you I am _very_ plain compared to other elves."  Estel cocked his head and gave him a sidelong glance.

"Modest, are we?" he said teasingly.  When Legolas didn't answer and only seemed to be furiously interested in an arrow point, Estel sighed.

"Legolas, you are very pretty, just know that and that you have nothing to apologize for."  They were silent for a while as Estel finally released the arrow he had been holding onto.  It flew and thudded itself near where Legolas' arrows were.  He nearly jumped in excitement.  

"Did you see that?  I've never shot so well before, Legolas."  The elf only smiled serenely and nodded; a veil masked his real emotions, whatever they were.  Estel couldn't help wondering if he'd ever really get to know him.  

~*~

As Legolas was putting away his things, he swayed on his feet.  He never did well with skipping meals.  He knew he would go find something to eat and eat until he was sick again, and then vow to never touch food once more.  His stomach protested against the emptiness loudly and angrily so that he was sure all of Rivendell could hear. 

Legolas poured himself a glass of icy cold water that dripped down his throat.  He could feel it trickling down to his stomach.  His stomach felt like fingers, trying to grip something and only finding water that ran through its fingers.  Just a few more minutes, Legolas knew, and then the hurting would stop.

He didn't like the dull ache that resided in his stomach, like a demon that lay in his stomach, feeding on his blood.  He couldn't control it.  It was different from the bite, the caress, the _kiss_ of the edge of a cool blade.  It wasn't satisfying.  

Legolas instinctively reached for his blade but stopped himself.  This often was extreme, even for him.  Estel could walk in any moment.  Just as he was withdrawing his hand, Estel walked in.  Legolas, heart pounding, got to his feet.  His mind was racing.  It was so close.  Too close.  Could Estel see how panicked he was? 

Estel eyed him discreetly and noted an unreadable expression almost being put away, as though Legolas had literally put up a mask.  Legolas shook his head slightly, as though to chase out the ghosts that resided in his mind.  He was dizzy, so dizzy from breathing hard.  His vision turned grainy as he nearly fell.  

"Careful," Estel warned, and put a hand on Legolas' arm.  "Are you okay?" 

"Fine," Legolas snapped and pulled his arm away.  When Estel didn't push further, Legolas thought he might have felt more disappointed than relieved.  Why wouldn't he just ask him straight out what was wrong?  Legolas wasn't sure how much more he could go on without saying something but he didn't want to be the one to burden Estel with his petty worries.  He wanted Estel to want to know, no, he _needed_ Estel to want to know, for the sake of him at least. 

"I think I know whether I'm okay or not," said Legolas, more testily than was necessary.  

"I think you have to relax," said Estel, finally.  "You're wound more tightly than Ada when Arwen gets into her fits."  Estel took a deep breath, hoping what he would say next wouldn't give away the fact that he had seen Legolas the night before, in the water.

"Perhaps if we went to the water," Estel suggested.  "It's calming and we've got a lot of time before we get called for supper."  Legolas was pleasantly surprised.  He would like to see the water again, especially in daylight.  It was the second half of what Estel had said that made him frown.  Is that all they ever did around here?  Eat?  It seemed like it. 

"We can go to the docks, there's usually no ships around there at this time of the year," Estel said.  "And when the sun sets it'll be lovely."  

~*~

The docks were relatively far away, far enough so that they had to ride there.  Legolas was happy at the chance to see his horse once more and greeted him as though a long lost friend as Estel watched amused.  They rode in silence, losing themselves to the comforting rhythm of the horses' hooves hitting the ground.  

Legolas finally felt relaxed for real as he adjusted to the rhythm of his horse.  He always liked riding and especially on Ares.  Something about his horse made it seem as though he understood.  Legolas shook his head with a slight smile on his face.  An animal understanding, he must be going insane.    

As Estel had predicted, there were no boats at the dock, just a stretch of calming shore.  Legolas immediately dismounted as his horse stayed obediently, away from the water's edge.  Legolas shed his shoes as he walked to the water's edge.  He enjoyed the gentle lapping of the frothy waves upon his feet as Estel joined him.

"Isn't this beautiful?  I think I'd live in Rivendell just for this," Estel said, speaking softly as though in a trance.  The sun was low in the sky and the water was like liquid gold.  Legolas saw that his skin was the same shade.  He wished that the inside of his body could change to gold too.  Not like any other metal, soft and beautiful and unchangeable.  He wouldn't ever be hurt or plagued by emotions if he were made of gold.  

He put a hand to his heart as though that may somehow turn his beating heart to gold.  The water sparkled as though sprinkled with glitter.  

"Thank you Estel," Legolas finally said.  The elf looked so sad and so distant that Estel couldn't help trying to trick him.  Estel remembered the very first time he saw Legolas and those vicious looking cuts on his arms.  He wanted to see them again.  Could a door really make those marks?  Legolas was either a very bad liar or lead a very strange life.

"Why don't we go swimming?" Estel suggested and pulled of his shirt but then immediately felt guilty about doing so.  How could he trick Legolas into showing him something that he obviously felt was too personal to share?  Just as he had suspected, Legolas stiffened up and looked uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry," Estel said softly.  "Please, if there's anything to tell me, Legolas, just tell me.  I'm your friend; I want to be your friend.  I wish you'd trust me."  Estel reached out and touched Legolas arm where he had seen the cuts and saw the wince that crossed Legolas' face before it disappeared. 

"I…It's nothing," Legolas persisted, feeling disappointed in himself.  "I…I get angry sometimes and sometimes I feel nothing."  With that, Legolas started wading further into the water without further regard for his clothes, distancing himself from Estel.  Estel followed, closing the gap.

"Legolas, do you hurt yourself?" he finally asked.  Legolas looked at him pleadingly; there was nothing more than anything in the world that he wanted more than to tell Estel.  But it was difficult.  More so than he would have imagined.  Estel reached out to hold onto Legolas' arm again.  They stared at each other, both willing and wishing for Legolas to speak.  Legolas felt his eyes starting to fill with tears.  He cried so easily, a grown boy like he shouldn't cry.  He should be able to hide his feelings more.  He showed them so easily, so much that Estel would see. 

"Maybe," Legolas finally said, and wrenched his arm away from Estel's grasp and half ran, half swam to the shore.  Legolas convinced himself that the setting sun on the water on his face was what blinded his eyes, not tears.  He ran from Estel and jumped up onto Ares.  

"Go, please," Legolas whispered, and the horse obeyed, running as fast as it could.  Estel watched and listened to the horse running farther into the distance, taking Legolas away.  He sighed and let the elf go first.  He deserved to be alone now, but now that Estel had more of an idea of what Legolas did to himself, he wasn't quite sure if alone was safe for Legolas.  

Estel sat on the beach and watched the heavy golden ball finally sink below the horizon, dragging down a velvety curtain of night sky.  When the stars and the moon were high in the sky, Estel finally reached for his horse and also rode away from the shore. 

~*~

"Elrohir, what would you do if you had a friend," started Estel, wondering how he was going to say this. 

"You wouldn't need to know, you have no friends, brother," teased Elrohir.  

"I'm serious," Estel said.  Elrohir was the more empathetic between Estel's older brothers and he was hoping perhaps Elrohir would have some advice, any advice.  The older elf could see that Estel was truly worried and settled to match his mood.

"What's the matter, Estel?"  

"I don't know exactly," sighed Estel.  "Just, if you knew someone was doing something wrong, what would you do?"  Elrohir frowned.

"Depends on what they are doing.  They could be killing someone, or they could be stealing sugar from their kitchen.  Wrong is a large word." 

"He's hurting himself I think."  Elrohir played along with his brother although he vaguely knew that it had to do with Thranduil's son.  The sickly, sad looking elf seemed to be one who would do something like what Estel was describing.

"It's brave of you, little brother, to want to help someone else, but I want you to understand that I don't want you to be pulled down with this person.  Save yourself whenever there is a danger of you hurting too."

"I'm already hurting, I want him to be okay," said Estel.

"Don't follow what he's doing, don't follow his footsteps," Elrohir advised.  "And just be there for him."  Estel sighed.

"Thank you Elrohir."  The older elf patted his brother on the head and walked out, leaving Estel to his own thoughts.

~*~

Legolas was not at supper and wasn't seen after that either.  Finally Estel couldn't help but walk to his rooms, his feet guiding the way.  

"Please talk to me, please talk to me," Estel whispered to himself.  Finally, he drew back the filmy curtains that served as a door.  The elf was sitting there on the bed, shoulders hunched, looking as though he may have been expecting Estel. 

"Are you-" Estel found that his mouth had gone dry and swallowed, trying again.  "Are you ready to talk now?"  It seemed to take an eternity for Legolas to slowly raise his head and finally meet Estel's eyes.

"Yes, I think so."  

~*~

a/n: sorry so short.  The story seems to be progressing quicker than I planned.  I'm not sure how it will end because, obviously, my life hasn't presented a good clean end to this problem.  Thanks for reading, all my readers make it worth getting up in the morning~

Thanks to: FrodoBaggins87, Riva van Dyk, Fire Eagle, Catmint, eveyen, Luthien Tinuviel the 2nd, Drowned with my enemy, Coolio02, aaliyah, sunni07, Just-some-girl1, Lillybeth1,   

_Brandy Liqueur_- thanks for the compliments, have you seen Helen of Troy before?  It was okay but I'm really counting the days until Troy comes out (with Orlando Bloom of course…) I think I'll read some of your friend's work sometime.   About your question, perhaps, I'm not much of a physical person myself and I've got nothing but skin and bones on my arms so I guess the straining of the muscles pulling the cuts apart wouldn't really apply to me…but I'm pretty sure that could happen easily. 

_Alira_- sometimes it is hard to not make things in the story, especially the dialogue, belong in the Tolkein world.  But I've used Legolas as the main character, not someone who lives in our culture, because he is admired usually and it shows that everyone can have problems, even if they seem for no reason on the surface. 

_Elfmage- _funny how in turn I find all of you the real inspirational ones…

_Kerla_- thanks so much for that hug, it made me smile for the first time the day I read it

_LadySiri_- even if it's not important to your dad, if it's still important to you then that's all that matters.  I hope you work things out with your dad and you do what you need to stay beautiful and healthy just the way you and everyone should be. 

_Theodred Prince_- you're absolutely right, this ordeal will also push Estel to his limits as well as Legolas. 

_Angel with No Wings_- hope you didn't fall!

_Kowarete no Tsubasa_- glad you're liking Estel, I like him too.  Everyone needs a good friend.

_Sindarin Lady_- I know I have nothing to blame my parents on, kids who are being abused and hurt by their parents is just one whole big messy other place that I don't want to venture into.  True, kids should not look for a scapegoat and take responsibilities for their actions if they deem them important enough; then again, they are still children, whatever that is.  Don't forget, there are always two sides to a pancake no matter how thin it is.   


	6. Chapter Six

**Disclaimer**: I don't own although it maybe slightly AU.

**Author's Note**: I'm sorry this update took so long.  It got bad suddenly and I got sick of writing it down and now I'm at a difference place from where Legolas is.  It's like he's completely different now.  I just feel like I'm falling faster and further but I don't want that with Legolas.  If I ever get around to ending the story, it will be difficult because endings in life aren't as clean, there's always loose ends and it's hard to define when a part of your life really does end.  Does that make any sense or does it sound like mindless chatter?  Well if it's the latter, then I guess I tried my best trying to explain myself.  The format may be different because ff.net is not cooperating with me.

**::For Eden::**

**::Chapter Six::**

 Legolas regarded Estel, still somewhat warily, on his bed.  Estel could only stay seated as still as he could.  He had the notion that if he moved too quickly or spoke too loudly he would scare the elf away.  Estel was silently urging Legolas to start talking. 

Legolas felt his heart beat thick and slow as though he was underwater.  He tried to pull apart the strands of thought in his mind but they just became hopelessly tangled.  He wanted to talk, he really did, but his tongue felt severed.  He finally looked up at Estel, at his solid eyes as opposed to his own that felt transparent.

"Legolas, are you unhappy?"  Legolas frowned.

"Unhappy is a way of putting it.  Angry, sad."  His mouth felt tender around the sharp words but he kept talking.  He would keep talking until he bled.

"Why?"

"Because I am a spoilt prince with an insatiable desire to end this godforsaken life."  Legolas stood up suddenly; his bones felt ablaze with a fire.  He was angry again.  The fire would eat away at his bones until they turned to dust.

"You are not that, Legolas," Estel said gently.  The fire started to ebb away.  Estel gripped Legolas' wrist; the skin felt hot underneath the surface, as though coals were burning deep in his body.  "You are in no way spoiled.  I need to know why you are so unhappy with your life."

"I don't know.  I have everything, Estel, and yet I am still unhappy.  How can you say that I am not spoiled?" 

"Because you are kind and good," he answered simply.

"You hardly know me."

"You are my friend, Legolas, and I know that you are not how you see yourself.  You must stop loathing yourself, Legolas."  Legolas could feel wetness pricking at his eyes and he was surprised.  He had forgotten how to cry and the tears felt foreign, full in his eyes and throat, but Legolas did not let them spill over. 

"You have to tell me, why do you do this?"  Estel traced the cuts underneath Legolas' shirtsleeve.  Legolas winced and twisted his arm out of Estel's grasp.  He gripped his arm almost protectively but with a distant look on his face, as though the arm and the cuts were not his own.

"Because I have an uncontrollable anger, because sometimes I don't know Estel.  I don't know if I'm living or if I am dead!  This," Legolas pointed accusingly to his chest.  "Is the only thing that tells me that I am still alive, still forced to endure this, this numbing life that kills me each day."  His voice cracked and Legolas sank back on his bed, his head was raging.   

"I need to know, I have to remind myself, that I can still feel, that I haven't turned completely to stone," Legolas said, softly.  Estel strained to hear his voice. 

"Why do you feel this way?" Estel was baffled, for once.  In his entire life he had been completely sure of everything, the ground beneath his feet, his emotions, and suddenly this was thrown into his life.  He was afraid, too, he wasn't used to feeling this way.   Suddenly, Estel wasn't sure if it really was solid ground that stretched out from beneath his feet.

"I don't know.  I just get so sad sometimes.  So angry.  I'm sorry.  I have no right to be feeling this way."  Estel leaned forward and gripped Legolas' hand again.

"No Legolas, you shouldn't ever have to apologize for your emotions.  You have a right to feel whatever you do.  You also have a right to be happy.  And not wounded."  Legolas couldn't look at his arm.

"For how long?"  Legolas shook his head.

"I honestly don't know." 

"Whenever you're angry, Legolas don't hold it in.  You hold everything in until you are about to break." 

Legolas almost confessed that sometimes he _did_ wish he could break.  If he were broken, he would not have to live with the uneasiness in his stomach and the pain.  Pain from what?  He did not know. 

"Sometimes it hurts for no reason," Legolas said.

"What hurts?"

"Trying to live.  It hurts and the redundancy reduces me to nothing.  I am an elf, Estel, I have to hold up the glory of my father and yet I am still shackled to the cruel bonds of time.  I don't want to die."

"You won't die," Estel said, gently.  "You're immortal."

"But that's just it."  Legolas hid his face in his hands, his fingers tangling in his hair.  "I don't know what I want.  I don't want to live forever but it is death that I fear the most.  I am weak."

"Legolas, there is an enormous amount of pressure on you.  You are a prince; it is one of the hardest positions to fill.  You have to understand, your father cares about you, and he would not mind listening to you."  Legolas stayed silent.

"And me, Legolas, anytime, anywhere I'll listen.  Please, let me help you?"  Legolas swallowed hard.

"I will if I can." There was an odd sense of closure in Legolas' words and Estel suddenly felt as though he should leave, not that he was unwelcome but still that perhaps Legolas deserves time alone now.  He rubbed Legolas' shoulder and walked out. 

:::::::::::::::::

Legolas sat, unmoving.  He was…he's supposed to be feeling better now, isn't he?  Legolas tried to work around his thoughts.  He couldn't, he _wanted_ to tell Estel but he couldn't find the words, he didn't know what he wanted to say.  He did feel better.  A weight was gone from his chest but that left him feeling strange.

Legolas felt empty and cold.  With Estel away, he suddenly felt different.  It has hard to believe that the conversation actually took place; it was all so very surreal.  When he hugged himself, his arms felt foreign.  Another part of him felt strangely triumphant.  He was being taken seriously.  He, Legolas, was not seen as a histrionic, self-centered prince.  As sick as it was, Legolas felt almost proud that his illness was real, that it wasn't all in his head.  It was something for others to take seriously, proof that his problems were not trivial.

His stomach churned at these treacherous thoughts as cold sweat broke over his body.  Legolas raked across his face with the back of his hand.  He was shivering now.  His body was shaking, like convulsions; he needed to be calm.  Legolas tried taking deep breaths but they were like gasps; he couldn't calm himself. 

Before he could think, his traitor hand found the blade as though it had always been molded there into his palm.  He drew the blade along the palm of his left hand.  It shone red, like a lifeline.

As he drew across his legs, his eyes felt blinded.  Light was blinding his eyes.  He wished it was something heavenly but he blinked away salt.  His mouth tasted metal and his salty, wet tears. 

He felt pathetic; he _was_ pathetic.  Did anyone else feel sorry for himself or herself like he did?  He had no right to.  Legolas felt his arms.  They felt bruised; purple petals were blooming under his transparent skin.  He was wretched and weak.  Did he really deserve Estel?  Estel was strong and grounded.  He had no right to bother Estel.  Legolas could see the boy's concerned face and hear his reassuring words in his minds eye but he could not bring himself to feel worthy of it. 

Who was he?  Legolas could barely recognize himself anymore.  Blue eyes, long hair, ashen face.  He could only think of the stranger he saw when he looked in the mirror.  His body felt foreign and his ribs were gaunt and showed through the skin like baskets.  The bones in his shoulders, his arms, felt like the bones of birds, hollow and breakable.  His voice trembled in his throat, like an animal.

Screaming.  People screaming.  Demons screaming.  Screaming at him to stop.  Screaming at him for being who he was, worthless, shameful.  They pierced his ears and Legolas clamped his hands over them.  He thought he could feel the blood trickling from them.  Screaming, so much screaming.  Who was it?  He was…he was screaming.  Legolas could barely recognize his own voice.  It was calling someone.  Calling.  Reaching.  Arms enveloped him.  Warmth enveloped him and breeze blew away the tears and sweat and blood. 

"I told you, you can call me and I'll always come," Estel said.

:::::::::::::

Estel did not know how long he sat there, hugging the crying elf.  He felt small and fragile in his arms and Estel wondered if part of his uncanny appearance had to do with his weight.  Did this boy eat?

He tried to stop Legolas from saying sorry.  He kept repeating it, as the salty tears traced down his face.  Estel felt at a loss; he wanted to hard to help him but he wasn't sure if he was at all.

"Don't say you're sorry.  I want to help you."  Estel wasn't sure if he was talking to Legolas or himself. 

"I want to help you."  Legolas shook his head.  Did he hear Estel right?  Did the boy truly want to help him?  Did he, Legolas, matter to him?  He was not burdening Estel with his worries?  He felt doubtful but let hope, a thin strand of it, survive in his heart.  It warmed him, from his stomach, across his body.  It was the not raging fire that had threatened to devour him earlier.  It was different; it was the comforting, steady warm ebb of light. 

Estel frowned in thought.  Legolas was still whispering, repeating himself softly.  He didn't want Legolas to be sorry.  He strained to hear the elf's voice.  When he heard him, Estel let a small smile form on his lips.

"Thank you thank you thank you thank you."

::::::::::::::::::::::::

A/n: I'm so sorry this has been a short chapter and somewhat fluffy chapter.  I don't know what to do; Legolas has come so far for me to bring him back down just because of how I'm feeling.  I'll have to figure out where to take this, whether to keep it with me, my emotions, or let it turn into a story.  I just don't want people to feel bad if Legolas doesn't improve and sinks back into the state he started out in because it is fully possible to pull out of this sort of depression.  I have to thank everyone, absolutely everyone who's reviewed.  Believe it or not, you have all helped me in one way or another and I've fallen behind in regularly updating and responding to reviewers so I'll pick that up starting the next chapter.  Thank you all, once again, for understanding and relating; it has made all the difference in the past few months.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Disclaimer**: If you think I own any of this, you're even more out of touch with reality than I am.

**Author's Note**: So this story has come to an end and I apologize for such a long delay for the final chapter. This past year has been…extremely difficult. It was just one family crisis/problem after another and the past year has closed on an extremely bad note for me but so far it seems as though the new year might hold some promise. I've been pulling through surprisingly well. I thank you all for sharing your own experiences, stories, giving me words of encouragement, all of this has helped me more than I can really say (but hey, I attempted…). I am so happy that there were so many of you who could relate to these emotions and this story and I hope that all of you find your own Estel, may he be a friend, family member, or someone inside yourself. I wish you all the best of luck and thank you so much, once more, for reading, relating and sharing.

**:: For Eden ::**

**:: Epilogue ::**

"So then, have you got everything you need?" Estel asked, looking about the room. Legolas pulled his scant belongings into the saddle packs and searched around for his white tunic that he had planned on wearing for the trip back home. It was, in his memory at least, the only shirt he had left that was somewhat clean.

"I didn't bring much," Legolas admitted. "But now I'm wondering if maybe I should have brought another shirt. I've seem to have lost the one I've planned on wearing." Estel got onto his hands and knees and made his way around the room, searching beneath the dresser and bed.

"I think I've found it," Estel announced. He produced the shirt, now dusty, from underneath the rosewood bed, hidden behind the crisp linen sheets.

"Now have you got everything?" Estel asked, again. Legolas looked around the room once more, letting his eyes linger for a second on the top of the dresser, and then looked away.

"I think so." It felt as if with every step towards the door, Legolas' feet grew heavier. Legolas swore he could feel his heart starting to protest and begin to pound harder. Who knew walking away could be so hard? He hesitated. He could easily brush his hand over the surface of the varnished dresser and pull the object into his bag without the other boy even seeing. Before Legolas could consider doing so, Estel was at his side, gripping his elbow, leading him towards the sheer curtains that hung over the doorway.

"Ada is helping your father pack," he said. "I believe they're outside with the horses now. I'm sure he'll help you too." Legolas felt all of the heavy weight in his legs evaporate.

"Yes," he said. "I will get help." And the blonde elf was gone, as fast as a whisper, the only proof that he was in the room being the gentle swinging of the curtains in the doorway. Once Estel was sure Legolas would not return, he made his way to the dresser, hoping he would see what he suspected was there.

The knife was laid on the embroidered cloth looking suspiciously innocuous. The sheath was made of leather, stitched with a heavy thread of gold and green in patterns of leaves and vines. He hesitated to reach out for it. Was this the knife that Legolas had used? It looked like a birthday gift, perhaps, or a simple hunting knife. It was a weapon for a child. Something about the fact that this knife had been a gift given to Legolas when he was only a young child chilled Estel to the bone. He examined the knife again without touching it. No, he was wrong. It had a more sinister feel; it was not a simple hunting weapon.

He finally dared to touch it. It seemed relatively ordinary, the leather warm, and the metal hilt cool. Holding his breath, Estel unsheathed the blade. It glinted slightly in the afternoon light. Estel drew his fingers from the hilt of the blade all the way up to the tip and saw the dark, tiny stains of blood on the edges of the blade. That did it; Estel could look at this blade for no longer. He put it back in the sheath and wondered what to do with it. Finally, he tucked it into one of his pockets with plans to hand it over to Elrond later. He would know what to do with it.

Estel made his way out and through the outdoor corridors into the open courtyard where he found Elrond, Thranduil, and Legolas.

"I believe they're ready to go now," Elrond said, smiling slightly at Estel's arrival. His smile only widened when Estel approached the young prince of Mirkwood. As he had hoped, the lonely elf had finally made a friend.

"Will you ever come back to visit?" Estel asked, as Legolas pulled on his riding gloves.

"I'm not sure," he said, hesitantly. "I'd _like_ to but it's always hard to be sure."

"You have forever to come," Estel said.

"But you don't. You might not be here," Legolas said, and looked slightly stricken at the thought.

"Then more the reason to come visit earlier," Estel answered, softly but firmly. Legolas' lips curved into a smile.

"Yes," he said. "I will try my best to come." He did not flinch when the human boy pulled him into a hug. Legolas felt more at peace and relaxed than he ever remembered being. He drew back.

"Thank you," he said, once more. "You have done more for me than you can ever know." Estel smiled; words were not needed. Legolas mounted his horse and followed his father who was giving his last goodbyes to Elrond.

"Farewell, Legolas, and take care," the elf lord said. Legolas nodded and followed his father into the galloping pace that he had set. He chanced a look behind him to see the glory of Rivendell fading, like a fey sight from a dream that one holds onto as they return to reality. But there, in the middle of the wistful, milky scene was the very human Estel. Legolas smiled. Yes, he will be okay.

* * *

"How is Legolas?" Elrohir questioned, as they watched the young prince ride away with Thranduil. 

"I think he will…manage," Estel said, hesitantly.

"It is not like a physical ailment that can be cured completely," Elrond said, coming up to stand next to Estel. "He will have to battle this for the rest of his life." It sounded rather bleak to Estel and reminded him of what the heavy object was, in his pocket.

"You did a noble thing, Estel, helping him like that," Elrohir said, gripping the younger boy's shoulder. He walked away, leaving only Estel and Elrond in the courtyard. They were silent for a while, watching the leaves fall, coloring the sky in one last defiant act, before resting on the ground to stay. Estel found beauty in the falling leaves but more so in the tranquil ones that blew here and there on the ground. Perhaps there was beauty in destruction.

"Do _you_ think he will be okay?" Estel asked, looking up at Elrond.

"It is hard to say. I believe it would be best to put it the way you did: he will manage," Elrond admitted. "But you did your part. You helped him. It's the best any of us can hope for." Estel nodded but lingered in the courtyard, even when Elrond turned to leave. Seeing this, Elrond hesitated, himself, and said, "It would be best if you didn't think of him for awhile, Estel. You've done what you can and now you have to move on in your own life. Don't let his problems consume you." That brought to mind the deceivingly innocent knife. Estel pulled it out and handed it to Elrond who accepted it with the appropriate wariness.

"Thank you for giving me this," Elrond said. "And Elrohir was right. It was truly a noble thing you did, but remember what I said. If it is meant to be, you will see him again; there is no reason to fret until then." And he left. Estel thought back to what Elrond said. Was it the right thing to do, to forget Legolas, to not think of him? Estel wondered what he meant by those words but he heeded them.

He did not think of the blonde elf even as he grew older and his archery improved tenfold. He did not think of him when he chose exile and roamed the lands as a ranger. Even when he came across four tiny creatures that desperately needed guidance whom he escorted to Rivendell, his old home, did he not think of the elf. Even when Elrond told him that he was going to organize a council for the destruction of this One Ring, he did not think once of the fey, thin blonde.

It was only when Estel saw the back of a blonde elf, standing in an empty courtyard, elbows on the wrought iron railing, did he dare to bring up from his memories the mental vision of young Legolas. He was taller now, and broader. He no longer held traces of the sickly thinness or pale pallor. Estel felt his heart beat quicken. Even as he had blocked the memory of this elf in his waking conscious, he was defenseless in his dream state. The blonde elf had haunted him for all this time and finally seeing him seemed surreal. Estel made himself approach him. He closed his eyes, drew a breath, and opened them.

"Legolas?" The blonde head and the body attached whipped around, as though surprised, and indeed it was Legolas. His blue eyes widened in surprise and then time stood still. Legolas relaxed and Estel felt his own body relax and, like puzzle pieces fitting into one another, he felt himself feel more complete than he had since the last time he had seen Legolas. Legolas could hardly believe it was Estel standing there and his face could barely contain its smile. And then the spell fractured and split as Legolas let out the air he was holding in his chest. Warmth seemed to flood in past the icy capsule that they had been encased in. Time was meant to flow, not to stop.

"Estel."

* * *

_A/N_: Yes, this is the end. I apologize for the shortness and I'm afraid there will be no sequel and for once, requests cannot sway that. I thank you all once more. 

Individual thanks and comments to reviewers from chapter five and six:

_Steelsings_: I'm afraid I never got around to seeing Troy…but I did see the extended edition of the Return of the King and it was excellent.

_Grass under snow_: Thank you so much for your encouraging words. If you are relating to this, I hope you are able to heal, as well. I'll have to try my best as well.

_Ruby Foxburr of Loamsdown_: I'm afraid I idealize him too, but then again, who doesn't?

_ZeldaDragon_: Thank you for your amazing compliments and I do love your quotation at the bottom of your review.

_Inevitable Me_: your review was not the least bit offending. It's amazing to know that there are people out there who are able to smile no matter what and it inspires me to be a bit more like that.

_Drowned with my enemy_: people can be quite naïve…

_Kowarate no Tsubasa_: I usually listen to everyone's problems and kind of immerse myself in them so I don't have to think of the ones that _I_ might have to work on. Unfortunately, a good friend (I suppose I could call him my Estel) explained to me that that was quite unhealthy as well. As for Legolas' eating habits…I suppose I had some eating disorders although they never got too bad. I've tried throwing up and I have skipped meals and I just incorporated that in. Everything's a gray area and it drives me nuts how everything in magazines and articles make it black and white, how you are completely anorexic/bulimic or nothing at all. Everything's a gray area. I suppose I might not be making a whole lot of sense…thank you for being such a consistent reviewer, always with amazing feedback.

_Mieriellar_: getting a push makes things easier but sometimes people wait all their lives for that push and never get it. I suppose I was lucky, as well as Legolas, and I am so glad to hear that you were, as well. And your second comment completely nailed my dilemma. I did not want this to be such a disheartening story in which Legolas falls back into a depressed state but then again, life isn't always so clean and easy like that. Well, I hope the ending is to your satisfaction.

_Lulubell: _Lots of thanks for your consistent, amusing reviews!

_Catmint_: thanks for your consistent reviews of good feedback!

_Taraisilwen_: Ah yes, Estel, the ideal boy/man.

_Sindarin Lady_: cases like the one you put forth are sometimes the most heartbreaking. Everyone should know that abuse is not the victim's fault. Thank you for your consistent reviews.

_Darkmoon-on-dragonwings_: hello darling, I'll e-mail you.

_Stardust-creations_: I agree that it never really goes away. Sometimes, out of nowhere, the urge to do it comes and it is difficult. I applaud you for being a cutter in remission; that really takes a lot on strength. Good luck!

_Kerla_: your review is so cute. Thanks; I will take a virtual hug whenever I need one, heh.

_Tari5_: Thank you, for your encouraging words. I have a friend that committed suicide last spring and I thought about your comment a lot, whether he gave up or if he was strong enough to go ahead and just leave everything because it was so bad. I still haven't come upon an answer to that but I do believe I would not be able to do it. I'm not the same person I was a year ago and I'm quite thankful for that. Thanks again!

_Earendil Eldar_: an interesting, short story you shared. It is so strange to find people who have mirror experiences to my own. Thank you for sharing and I am happy to hear that it was merely a passing emotion.

_Notice-me_: it is amazing that you could be so open about your feelings. My sister has always been like that and she was extremely affectionate and while I wish I can be like her, it is quite pathetic that I'm unable to cultivate a healthy personality like hers. Perhaps I will keep trying. Thanks for sharing your own point of view.

_Captain Morrigan Savvy_: No, I appreciate you sharing your experiences. It is amazing how much worse you can feel when you feel you have no reason to feel low. Thank you for sharing and I am extremely grateful that someone had intervened and you are alive and kicking today, heh.

_Tari_: yum…gummy worms…

_Ragweed_: it does seem like unlikely people might be struggling with things like this. Hm…kudos for helping your friend, the world needs more people like you.

_Araphin_: Thank you for your inspirational review. Unfortunately, I had been baptized but then lost all belief in a God for a long time. I'm afraid it all felt silly and strange, like a children's bedtime story to comfort them that people are not blasted into nonexistence when they die. It was strange that I didn't have my foundation of religion anymore. I still don't believe in the traditional, Christian/Catholic idea of a God but I do believe in a higher being. And yes, I do believe in an afterlife. I feel as though there's too much proof to disband that (meditating, monks that are able to shift through different planes, etc.). Thank you, though, once more, for your review.

_Daethule_: I am glad you are exited that you can relate. I was addicted to angst stories for awhile and did, indeed, feel like crap that Legolas would be tortured, captured, etc. thus giving him a reason to feel depressed. But that is not always the case. And I can understand how the way you are can be like a shield, to excuse the way you are. I feel like cutting gave me ground, like a, "Look, see? It's not just petty problems that I'm blowing out of proportion anymore." Although if you think about it, it's a paradox since it's the cuts come from the problem but then the cuts _become_ the problem. Ack, my head hurts and I am not making any sense. I hope you get the help you need but I'm afraid my experience with counselors has been…not so good. My friend took me to see one without my parents knowing (they still, to this day, do not know that I had counseling) but she did not help me at all. By the third time I visited her, I had to fake a miraculous recovery and she believed every word. But I do know some friends for whom counseling has done wonders and I hope you do feel better.

Thanks to:

_Just me_, _Saxophonebaby, Freddie loves Frodo, Alakberaid, FrodoBaggins87, LadySiri, Riva van Dyk, Anthem82,Coolio02, Southerns, Isdule07, chels, Musicgrl, Nevaratoriel, CarminaBurana1, diedbysuicide, siricerasi, moon-dragon3, sunni07, Anne McSommers,_and_ mezzie._


End file.
